


Sparse Company

by Leamas



Category: The Honourable Schoolboy - John Le Carré
Genre: Fawn being Fawn, Gen, a random snapshot of things happening in the Circus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9556388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leamas/pseuds/Leamas
Summary: It was late, with not many of the few who remained left to catch a glimpse of Fawn as he alternatively paced through the hallways and along the far side of the room, and occasionally perched near the door to Smiley’s office.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vials](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/gifts).



Periodically Peter caught sight of Fawn from the corner of his eye. It was late, with not many of the few who remained left to catch a glimpse of Fawn as he alternatively paced through the hallways and along the far side of the room, and occasionally perched near the door to Smiley’s office. If Peter wasn’t careful he often found himself almost tripping over Fawn, which was his only clue that Fawn was tired: although Fawn was quiet enough that it was possible to forget he was there, he was quick, and no one ever stumbled over here he sat like a cat in a doorway.

“You can leave, you know,” Peter said. He didn’t turn away from his work. It was easier that way to pretend the blurring lines in front of him came only from his excessive concentration and not his own tiredness.

“What?” Fawn asked.

“Leave,” Peter said. “Shower. Take a nap. You don’t need to be here all day.”

Fawn didn’t speak, and in the silence that followed Peter wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Peter looked down at the papers in front of him and gripped his pen tightly in his hand. He’d finish here as quickly as he could, he decided, and then he’d go home.

“I don’t need to shower,” Fawn said softly.

“Then sleep,” Peter snapped. He heard Fawn’s breath catch, and immediately missed Fawn’s ghostly silence. When he turned, Fawn was much closer than Peter had expected, sitting on one of the chairs with his legs tucked up against him only a few metres behind him.

The youngest scalp-hunter had been awake for days now and it was starting to show. Cuts and bruises sat more naturally on Fawn than the tired bags under his eyes, which only made his unnaturally young face look gaunt and old.

It was cute, sometimes, how willing he was to make himself useful, and compared to some characters Peter saw hanging around the Circus he couldn’t really complain about Fawn. It just happened that Peter had never been particularly receptive towards cuteness, and the more of Fawn he saw the more aware of the young man Peter was, like noticing a rock trapped in his shoe every time he took a step.

“You can go home,” Peter repeated. “You don’t have to stay here.”

“I’m bothering you,” Fawn said with his flat, toneless voice. 

It occurred to Peter that besides blindly accepting Fawn’s unwavering devotional attendance, he ought to ask if Fawn even had anywhere to go.

He didn’t have the chance.

Fawn dropped his feet to the floor and soundlessly stood, then marched back to the door to Smiley’s door. He leaned his back against the wall and slid down to the floor, again drawing his legs against his chest and tucking his arms between his stomach and his knees. His face twisted around to look at Peter for a moment. Peter watched Fawn’s lips move but didn’t catch what he was saying; his face twisted into a grimace and then he looked away from Peter, and down to his knees.

It was still a moment longer before Peter finally turned his back to his desk. For the entirety of the time he sat working, he was only aware that his back was to Fawn, and of nothing else.


End file.
